Beyond Fiction
by December
Summary: Sometimes fiction really isn't fiction. And, at times, it can cause problems  deadly ones.
1. Context

Prologue – Context

"Now that. That was luck."

Luck. It wasn't a word used often - really ever - in Gotham. Luck was a word more associated with places like Metropolis, especially in the post-2009 world. It usage shouldn't have been that surprising, given that it was uttered by a Metropolis native; but given the world that was Gotham, a city that was dark and had only gotten darker, "luck" seemed to be a myth.

"It wasn't luck," stated the companion of the Metropolis native, as they sat at their regular table.

"Kitty! How was it not luck? The old man and the woman were about to be run over by the truck. That Batman was around and just swooped in to save them?! You think that was planned?"

Katherine Paparazzi Matthews, Kitty-Ri to her friends and Kitty to her co-workers, just shook her head as she picked up her menu. She had to wonder how her recruiter managed to function as long as she had in Gotham. "Not planned. But there is a middle ground between planned and luck. And that middle ground probably has to do with the fact that the old man was Bruce Wayne."

"I thought he looked familiar, and that was a vintage 2015 Lexus," Jayne Hightower-Reeves shared with her boss, "but I still don't understand what the fact that it was Mister Wayne that was saved negates the whole luck thing."

"Because Batman seems to keep an eye on Mister Wayne," Kitty said as she closed her menu.

Jayne wasn't nearly as nonchalant in her reaction. Menu still in the air and jaw practically on the floor, she responded, "Batman keeps an eye on Mister Wayne?! Are you saying that Bruce Wayne pays Batman for protection?!! Sorry, no dice, Kitty. If that's what you're saying, I think you are in the wrong shadow industry. That conjecture is for people in Mason Stein's line of work."

Raising her eyebrow slightly at the mention of the tabloid industry, Kitty replied, "My middle name notwithstanding, Mason and I do both deal in fiction, after a fashion. But I never claimed Wayne had Batman on the payroll. This is Wayne, not Powers, after all."

As Jayne was about to agree, a third woman approached their table. While her black hair cropped in a retro hairstyle that referenced the 1990s, she clearly projected style, power, and a sneaky deviousness. "Slaggit. Speak of the devil," Jayne muttered.

"I did warn you about that. You aren't in Metropolis anymore. And we all know what happened to Kansas," Kitty pointed out.

"Well, well, if it isn't my favorite publishing team," the black haired woman said as she arrived at the table. "Kitty, Jayne. Good afternoon."

"Good afternoon," Jayne replied.

"What do you want, Mason?" Kitty asked.

"Katherine, you wound me, you do. Why do you think I want something?"

"Mason, you are the president, CEO, and moving force behind the biggest player in the Tabloid industry. Of course you want something. You are always facing a posting deadline, after all. But I'm not sure why you are approaching us. We would only be useful if I was proposing buying out _The Other Pen_," Kitty pointed out.

"Are you buying out _The Other Pen_?" Mason pounced.

"Mason, she was kidding," Jayne groaned.

"Besides," Kitty said, "I'd only discuss such a buy-out here, where you would be bound to get wind of it, if I wanted to have the fact splashed all over the 'Net."

"Or if she wanted to embarrass you by having you publish totally wrong information," Jayne posited.

Mason glared at Jayne before turning back to Kitty, "They do make them differently in Metropolis."

"That they do," Kitty agreed. "But that didn't answer my question, Mason."

"I didn't want anything," Mason insisted, "I just thought I heard you mentioning Batman."

Jayne blanched at that, which made Mason's eyes sparkle. But it was the Gotham native, Kitty, who responded, "Of course we mentioned Batman. I'm the editor in chief of _La Gotham Noir_, the biggest fan fiction publishing house on the 'Net. Jayne is my chief recruiter for new authors. Even though we are an international publishing force now, we started in Gotham. You'd be surprised how often Batman figures in what's submitted to us. Especially with that horrid Batman musical in Gotham this week."

Having recovered during her employer's speech, Jayne added, "What did you think we were discussing? Batman's secret identity or something? You're worse that Ian Peek, Mason."

"And, speaking of Ian," Kitty addressed the now clearly annoyed Mason, "whatever happened to him? I thought you would have signed him to your empire by now."

Mason growled a little, but quickly adjusted her voice as she shared the truth, "We wanted to. We were in talks to, but he considers himself a 'real reporter'-"

"That's a problem," Jayne smirked, earning a glare from the tabloid queen.

"And he was making a lot of money in his current situation," Mason continued.

"An even bigger problem," Kitty added with a raised eyebrow.

"Not one that couldn't have been overcome," Mason insisted. "But, right after that postponed Bats expose, he vanished. No one has any idea of what happened to him."

"Think Bats took him out?" Jayne asked.

Silence. Then two sets of eyes sent Jayne death glares. "Batman does not operate that way," Mason insisted.

"We aren't talking about Superman, after all," Kitty added.

Jayne began to object to the slur against Superman, but Kitty and Mason were no longer paying her any attention. "So you've heard nothing."

"Not a thing. Sorry, I'm just being a boring editor again."

"Okay, Kitty," Mason relented. "But if you hear anything, anything of interest at all-"

"I'll come to you and not Alyson. Promise," Kitty said. "And I do have to keep my ear to the ground, after all. There's a thin line between fiction and libel, after all. Look what happened to FF."

"We all know FF had problems, Kitty."

"But they were a pretty old publishing force. That lawsuit wasn't pretty."

After they exchanged goodbyes, Mason left the two other ladies alone. After tucking her brown hair behind her ear and pushing up her glasses, Kitty looked at Jayne, "You have really got to work on your poker face. Mason may seem schway and merely nosy, but she's a shark."

"Okay, okay. I'll work on my ability to lie. But back to my point. If Batman isn't on Wayne's payroll, how is what happened not luck."

"As I said, it seems that Batman looks after Wayne. I'm a little of a Batfreak, to use the retro term," Kitty blushed slightly as she shared, "so I've kept a record of every Bat sighting and every Bat event. Admittedly, some probably never hit the 'Net. And some are clearly fabricated. I mean – Batman and Ten of the Royal Flush Gang as a couple? Not hardly. If Batman, any Batman, was going to dip into the villain pool, it would be someone more like the Catwoman of the late 1990s or Talia Al Ghoul-"

"Is it fair to call Talia a villain now? I mean, given all that she has done since 2009?"

"Given her gene pool, it's only a matter of time."

"That's harsh, isn't it?" Jayne objected.

"Do you want the rest of my thoughts on the non-luck, or would you rather champion Talia?"

"Sorry. Continue."

"So, I've saved all the Bat sightings and made a listing of what and whom he tended to save and where he tended to save them. Gotham is a big city; it's as big as Metropolis, and bigger than New York and San Fran. He can't be everywhere."

"I take if you've found a pattern."

"A small one," Kitty admitted. "But it would be hard to find that pattern now, as some of the Bat info has disappeared from the 'Net. I'm thankful for my off-Net storage everyday."

"Off 'Net storage? Can you even do that?"

"You are such a twip sometimes, Jayne," Kitty sighed. "But yes, I found a pattern. Since his reappearance, Batman has often been sighted solving problems centered around Hamilton Hill High School. He's busted a number of problems that centered themselves in the teen culture. And, he's helped out Bruce Wayne more than once."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, with the Spellbinder incident, Batman finally busted him on the Wayne Manor estate."

"So?"

"And, Batman has really helped with some issues surrounding Wayne-Powers."

"But he also helped FoxTecha," Jayne pointed out. "Doesn't that kill your argument?"

"Not when you factor in where the founder of FoxTecha used to work."

"Wayne-Powers…okay, okay. I get it. Go on."

"And the attempts on Wayne's life?"

"You and Mason were the only ones who called them that," Jayne retorted. "Those buildings in the historic district were old. Of course they'd fall at some point."

"Well, who saved Wayne from the falling building?"

"Batman, Batman, Batman. I get it. The old tycoon has been saved a little too often by Batman for it to be a coincidence. How did we even get on this topic?" Jayne groused.

"You mentioned the 'l-word,'" Kitty explained.

"I take it you don't believe in luck," Jayne replied.

"Jayne, I was born and raised in Gotham City. Of course I don't believe in luck. Masked vigilantes? Yes. Luck? No."

"But Kitty, you carry a rabbit's foot. That's a good luck charm."

"It is?" the editor gasped in surprised as she looked at her keys.

"Of course, it is! It has been for centuries! If you aren't carrying it for luck, why are you carrying it?"

"Because this bunny wasn't de-clawed before losing his foot. The sharp claws are a good thing to have when you are jumped by Jokerz."

"Jumped by Jokerz?!" Jayne exclaimed. "You act like that happens everyday!"

Kitty merely shrugged. "I am the native, after all."

- to be continued -


	2. The Idea

Chapter 1: The Idea

"Figures I would find you here," said a familiar, if highly exasperated voice.

Quickly clicking the last few keys before saving the piece on her notebook, Sam looked up into the annoyed face of her best…well only friend. Blushing and pushing her glasses back up on her nose, the nondescript brunette began to apologize. "Sorry, Sara. I just had the inspiration and I had to rush off to jot down a few notes. I'm ready now. Really. So, where do you need me?"

The annoyed blonde only seemed to glower at Sam more. "I needed you over there two hours ago. We're finished now. While you were typing away, some of us were working," Sara groused.

"T-two hours?" Sam stuttered in shock. "It can't have been that long."

"Do I even want to know what you were doing?"

"Well, after Maxine's little joke, I got great idea for a fic and-"

"A fic!" Sara groaned. "Slaggit. Why do I even bother?" With that the blonde began to walk away.

Sam stood where she was for another second before following her friend. Just because Sara befriended her, doesn't mean Sara understood her. It angered Sam to no end that Sara treated her as if she were blitzed out because Sam wanted to write fan fiction for a living. The fight they had about Sam becoming a "real author" was almost legendary at Hamilton High, up there with "ghost in the locker room" incident and trashing of the school incident.

Regardless of Sara's insensitivity on that one issue, Sara was a friend. Loyalty to and supporting of friends were important to both of them. And even Sam had to admit that she had failed her friend this time. "Wait, Sara. I'm really sorry."

Sara had at least slowed so that Sam could catch up with her. "Well, I mean, Sam – this was your chance to meet and talk to people. Real people. Not other people's characters you manipulate in your notebook –"

"Can we not do this today?" Sam asked as she heard the beginnings of another fight about her hobby in Sara's words.

Sara probably would have fired back anyway if, at that moment, Terry McGinnis hadn't jogged passed them to reach Maxine Gibson, chair of the Homecoming committee. "Well, at least you weren't the only MIA helper. And you were there for the beginning."

"McGinnis is just getting here now?" Sam asked.

"Looks like," Sara agreed. "A little late, too. His 'darling' Dana stormed off in a huff thirty minute ago. Something about his 'never coming through for her,'"

"Ouch," Sam agreed.

Sara had opened her mouth to say something but the wind shifted just long enough to give the two girls audio to the visual that held their interest. They heard Nelson's comment about Batman helping in Terry's place and then his terse question to Maxine.

"Someone does not look happy," Sara commented.

"Being the butt of a joke is not something that would make someone happy," Sam whispered, feeling a mixture of feelings from a variety of memories.

Sara chuckled as she watched the by-play between the "bad boy" and the "brain". Moments like this, it was hard to believe that Terry and Maxine were friends. "He is really letting her have it. And she's giving it right back. Guess she didn't like his excuse for not helping either."

"It wasn't an excuse," Sam muttered, as she pushed up her glasses again.

"Whatever. So what little thing set you off in quasi-writing land this time?" Sara turned her attention back to her social inept friend.

"It's not quasi-writing, it's - never mind. We aren't going to agree on that. It was just something that Maxine said that gave me an idea, is all. I just wanted to jot it down before I forgot it…and I spent more time on fic prep than I thought."

"I know I'm going to be sorry I asked," Sara said, "but what idea was that?"

At first, Sam almost refused to share. Sara was probably only going to make fun of the idea anyway. To be honest, it was a hackneyed idea, but Sam was convinced she had a new spin on it. "The identity of Batman."

"The identity of the Bat? Samantha Kingsolver, are you serious?!"

"Well, yeah. I admit that Batman was on the brain because the musical was in town earlier this year, but it was Maxine's comments that had me thinking, what if Batman was a teen?"

"A teen?" Sara said in a voice that showed that she clearly thought Sam was acting more blitzed out than usual.

"Yes. Someone like Terry McGinnis."

That statement caused Sara to freeze for a few minutes. Then she burst out laughing. "Terry McGinnis as Batman? The boy can barely stay awake in class and meet his girlfriend on time. Saving Gotham routinely? Not hardly!" Sara shook her head as she wiped away tears. It had been a long time since she'd laughed that hard at something. "Well, it would definitely be fiction, I'll give you that."

"I just hope it's a different enough angle this time," Sam agreed.

The words "different enough angle" caused her only friend to sigh. "Samantha, what are you going to do with this fic?"

"What do you mean?" Sam tried to ask innocently. The act didn't work.

"You know exactly what I mean. Are you going to submit it to one of the things or not?"

"They are called fan fiction publishing houses. And, yes, I am."

"They are as much a publishing house as the Stein empire is a legitimate news entity."

"Hey! Fan fiction is not the same thing as tabloid journalism! Besides, it will be different this time. This time, I'm sending it to _La Gotham Noir_."

This caused Sara to turn around and stare at her friend. Now Sara didn't know much about this "fan fiction" thing Sam hid behind instead of facing the world. But she did know some things; she had to learn something as she was the one who had to care for her friend when she was crushed by another rejection notice. One of the things Sara had managed to learn – completely against her will – was that _La Gotham Noir_, or _LGN_ as it was referred to among "ficcers", was the most elite fan fiction publishing house still in existence.

"You are submitting this to _La Gotham Noir_?! You have blitzed out completely, haven't you?"

"Slaggit, Sara! You could try to be happy for me. For once!"

"For once?!"

"Or at least fake happy! I fake happy about your vintage Prada finds all the time. Who cares if you found an old pair of shoes? Honestly!"

That almost had Sara sputtering. She really wanted to have it out over the Prada slur, but she let that go for a bigger fish. Sam was already an odd-ball with no social life and next to no self-esteem. Friends don't let friends jump off a cliff. "Look, Sam. Remember all the rejection notices _The Other Pen_ and _Ficcerdom_ have sent you?"

"But this is diff-"

"Let's see. Your stories were OOC – whatever the hell that means – and full of mistakes, implausible, unsustainable, and choppy. They were too prosy. Too cerebral. Too-"

"Could you not recite every reject email I've ever gotten? I didn't share those with you to give you attack ammunition," Sam objected

"This isn't about ammunition; this is about reality. Your crappy little waste of time is going to explode in your face. Forgive me from wanting to save you from that and maybe help you make friends besides me!"

Sara knew she might have gone too far the minute Sam went red. "My 'crappy little waste of time'?" Sam repeated in a quiet voice.

"Now, Sam –"

"No. I'll show you. I will show you that this is different. But you might be partly right," Sam seemed to concede.

"Partly right, how?" Sara asked cautiously.

Pushing up glasses back up from where they had slipped one last time, Sam replied, "It's about time I actually made some friends. Real friends." Then Sam turned around and walked away, leaving Sara out in front of the school.

"Slaggit. I really could have done that better," Sara whispered. Looking at her friend's angry departure, Sara only hoped that Sam would come find her when _LGN _reject the thing she was writing. Because _LGN_ would reject it, and that might be ugly for Sam.

- to be continued -


	3. The First Draft

Chapter 2: The First Draft

It was the knock that startled her back into this world. It was amazingly odd that she'd lost herself so much in her task that she had forgotten where she was. That did not happen as much anymore, which saddened the brunette when she thought about it. She wasn't sure if the lack of engagement was the quality of what she was usually seeing or the fact she was becoming jaded.

"I see you're reading it," Jayne said as she sat down across from her boss.

Kitty paused long enough to set her tablet notebook aside before answering Jayne. The tablet notebooks were very retro, but Kitty insisted on them for her job. When you needed to write, draw, and read the tablet was still the best method out there. "Yes. The story sucked me in. The premise is amazing!"

"That struck me at first, too. It almost even fit what you were saying a while ago about the patterns of Batman's activities."

"So, I'm not the only Batfreak it seems," Kitty smiled. "But why was it red-filed? I didn't read anything problematic at all. In fact, most of the spelling and grammar were even correct. That almost never happens in a first submit anymore."

"I didn't red-file it for the story, I red-filed it for other reasons," Jayne shared.

As Kitty raised an eyebrow waiting for Jayne to pull together her explanation for red-filing a promising story, she thought a little about the system they had created to deal with all of their submissions. The publishing house had four clearance databases, to make life easier for the recruiters, editors, secretaries and (unfortunately) lawyers. Things that were put in the white database, or "white filed", were automatic accepts to _La Gotham Noir_. Things that were "black filed" were automatic rejects. "Yellow filed" submissions just needed some editing work and tweaking. "Red filed", on the other hand, were stories with great promise and great problems.

"I red-filed the story," Jayne said after a few minutes of silence, "because one of the characters, Travis Matthews –"

"Who is a wonderful character," Kitty interrupted. "This writer actually managed to make the 'bad boy' a non-cliché."

"Well, she had help in that," Jayne said "Travis is based on a real person."

"Slaggit," Kitty grumbled. Characters based on real people were always a legal headache she didn't need. "Please tell me that he's at least famous? Then we could say he's fair game."

"No. Not famous. Just a typical high school student, like our author," although the blonde recruiter didn't sound disturbed, the frustration was clearly apparent in her eyes.

"A high school student? It just gets worse. Please tell me that he's at least sixteen! I do NOT want to have to deal with parents again."

"I have been able to find out that he is at least sixteen. But, given that he's not famous, you know we need his consent before we move forward."

"Slaggit," Kitty muttered again. Taking a deep breath, she rose, "Well, let's get started then. We need to contact him and get the waiver signed. It'll be the two of us."

"Do we also need Tom from legal?" Jayne asked and she moved to stand to follow her employer.

"No. We go in without legal. Contact the author, however. I think he or she should come with us."

Jayne stopped, surprised by her boss' answer. "Go in without our lawyer? Is that the smartest move?"

"Jayne," Kitty sighed as she turned, "every time we go in the Tom, people refuse to sign. I want this story. And, if I need to intimidate the real life Travis to get it – well, what our legal department doesn't know makes their defense easier."

"Intimidation? But Katherine, that's not legal!"

"Oh, did I say intimidate? I meant persuade. Persuasion is not a bad thing. There are ways to reach people without the legal jargon. I'm just thinking outside the specs on this one." Kitty pulled her glasses down slightly to look over the rims at her best recruiter. "Jayne, this isn't some quaint small town like St. Michals or Smallville were. I want that story; I don't want a libel suit; so, I'm going to make it work." After uttering her pronouncement, Kitty turned and walked out of the door.

For a few seconds, Jayne stood in the room, frozen in shock. So many of the recruiters that said that Katherine Matthews – their "fearless" leader – was lethal. They often called her a shark, a bitch, and a schemer – at least in terms of her job, even if she was nothing but fair to those employed at _LGN_. Jayne hadn't believed them before. Kitty wasn't a pushover, but she wasn't like Mason Stein. At least, she hadn't seemed like Mason before today. There was a steel streak of something in Kitty that Jayne hadn't seen before. Mason had that streak. So did Ian Peek and both Derek and Paxton Powers. Some of the stories about Bruce Wayne pointed to it as well. With the exception of Wayne, Kitty wouldn't appreciate being compared to that group of people. But all of those people were Gotham natives.

Maybe this city really did destroy people after awhile.

As he opened his locker, he took a few seconds to try to force himself awake. Most of his fellow students would say Monday was the worse day of the week. He tended to think it was Wednesday. No weekend to mitigate the drama of the "after school job" and a ton of high school drama in the day to add to the underbelly drama at night.

Was he getting too old for this? At his age?

"Morning, Terry," the familiar voice of his best friend said off to his right. "Boy, do you looked slagged!"

"Hello, Max. Nice to see you, too."

"Don't get snippy with me! I at least tried to help you study for the government quiz."

"Wait – that government quiz is today?"

"Terry, you really are hopeless. You know that?"

How Terry would have answered Max remained a mystery, as Dana joined them at that point. "Good morning, Ter. Hi, Max," the teen smiled at her friend and greeted her boyfriend with a kiss. "Boy, you look slagged!"

"Is it that obvious?" Terry asked as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Well, not as obvious as the whole Sara-Sam fallout, but pretty close."

"The Sara-Sam thing is still in the fallout stages?" Max interrupted. "They should have made up by now."

"The Sara-Sam thing?" Terry asked, his confusion showing on his face.

At his question, Max and Dana both turned to stare at him. "Sometimes, Terry, I wonder if you even go to this school."

Max shook her head and tried to catch Terry up to speed. "Sara and Sam go to school here. They've been best friends for eons – but they have huge fights once a week. Anyway, the last fight started after homecoming –"

"Speaking of," Dana interrupted as looked at Terry. The Asian girl made a fist and hit her boyfriend's shoulder. "You were supposed to be there."

"Ow!" Terry objected. "And, as I tried to explain later, Mr. Wayne needed me that day. Dana, he's old and he needs help, hence the assistant?" Terry valiantly tried to ignore Max's coughing fit over his portrayal of Bruce Wayne as frail and in need of assistance. This was probably one of the drawbacks of having Max meet the Old Man.

"Mr. Wayne always needs you! What about when I need you?"

"Are we going to have this fight now? Or are we going to talk about the whole Sara-Sam thing? Because, if you're going to do the fight, I need my popcorn." As two faces turned toward her, complete with dirty looks, Max just shrugged. "What? The two of you do fight enough. The rest of us have to do things to make it entertaining!"

"You mentioned that Sara and Sam started fighting three weeks ago?" Terry asked as he turned back to Max.

"Yep. Sam supposedly stormed off. I guess they haven't talked since."

"And here's Sara now. Now that's really looking slagged," Dana pointed out as she turned to look down the hallway.

Sure enough, another student was walking toward the classes further down the wing. There were other people around her, but she didn't seem to be paying any attention to them. There were dark circled under her eyes and she seemed really out of it.

"Whoa," Terry said.

"I know. Whatever happened, Sara took it hard," Dana observed.

Before Terry could ask any other questions, there seemed to be a commotion at the other end of the hall. The three teens turned to look at what caused it. What they saw coming up the hall was a rare sight. Three different women, each with clear purpose, walked down the hall. One of them was clearly a student and a little nervous; she kept pushing her glasses back onto her face. The student's companions were clearly adults. One of them wore a light gray suit with a medium length skirt and low heels. The other was in a power red pantsuit with higher heels. A vintage powersuit at that, given that it had lapels. She was very clearly the one in charge.

Even more interesting than that, the triumvirate seemed to be heading directly toward Dana, Terry, and Max.

"Who are those women?" Dana asked

"Are they with Wayne/Powers?" Max asked Terry.

"No. Definitely not," Terry answered as his eyes narrowed.

"And why is Sam with them?" Dana asked.

Before the teens could to much more musing, the three women stopped in front of him. "That's him," the student shared. "That's Terry McGinnis."

"Thank you, Samantha," the female in the red powersuit answer. "Mr. McGinnis," she turned her attention to Terry as she smiled. "My name is Katherine Matthews. This is my associate Jayne Hightower-Reeves. On behalf of Samantha, here, could we have a few minutes of your time?"

"We're coming too," Max was quick to chime in.

Ms. Matthews blinked only slightly before relenting, "Of course. Do you have any suggestions of where we can go to talk a moment?"

"I have the perfect place, follow me," Max said, taking the lead and dragging a reluctant and suspicious Terry with her. As Dana brought up the rear of the group, she noticed that Sam stayed in conversation with Ms. Hightower-Reeves and didn't once look up once, not even to acknowledge Sara…who had followed the group with her eyes.

to be continued –


End file.
